Arnathor the Great (Chapter 2: Part I Rough Draft) Fiction

Chapter 2: The Restored Republic of Southern Dwarfs

          The Restored Republic of Southern Dwarves made their home in the Nordsten mountain range; located in the southwest of the five realms. The mountain range lay directly to the west of the Grundelstin Valley; creating a border between the two kingdoms. The Dwarven people were a hardy yet reclusive folk; though unlike their northern counterpart, the southern Dwarves were a much more open people. 


The Dwarves mainly lived in large underground cities that they had carved out under the mountains over the course of hundreds of years. Many of those cities had been lost to time; but a few still contained the Dwarves they were originally designed to house. The Dwarves were the best craftsmen in all of the five realms; it had been said that a Dwarven sword could withstand blows from the Gods themselves. The Nordsten Mountains had been plagued by war for centuries; though the soil was rocky and unable to foster any really farming efforts, the mountains contained large coal and iron deposits that all the kingdoms vied for control of. The Republic of the Southern Dwarves had been a prosperous place filled with merchants that had used their mineral fortunes to barter with other the kingdoms for food and supplies for their cities. The Republic amassed a sizeable wealth and had built lavishly in their underground cities until the death of Rahel. After Thell the Terrible seized the throne, he led a massive force into the Republic of Southern Dwarves. No match for the kingdom of men the Republic surrendered, rather than have their people slaughtered at the hands of a tyrant. Thell forced the Dwarves into slavery; leaving only those with enough wealth to buy their way out of hock free. Thousands of Dwarves died as consequence to Thell’s merciless policies; the underground cities were emptied and most Dwarves were force to mine for the resources that had been their greatest treasure. For twenty six years the Dwarf people were the slaves of the Kingdom of Men; forced to mine, craft weapons, armor, and a whole other assortment of tools of war and torture. During the war for the throne, the Dwarven people, who supported Arnathor the Liberator, regained their independence and formed The Restored Republic of Southern Dwarves. The Restored Republic had an insurmountable task ahead of them; how to rebuild a country that had lived in slavery for the past quarter century? 

Many Dwarves resented the Republic; blaming the government for their time in captivity. They saw the city of Brunith, the bustling metropolis that had been the financial heart, untouched during the years under Thell. The puppet government Thell had established ruling the mountains from Brunith under an iron fist. Now as the government tries to rebuild its empty cities and coffers they struggle to find the support of their people. Poverty and famine stricken the land; in huts and makeshift homes all across the mountains, Dwarves cling to life, as the cruel cold mountains claim more and more of their brothers and sisters. Clans and gangs have taken hold and resist the restored Dwarven government’s authority.  

            In the underground metropolis of Brunith lived Draedis the Dwarf. Draedis was a blacksmith and a craftsman by trade like his father Haedron before him.  Haedron the blacksmith was a Dwarf of questionable standing among the Dwarven people. The rumors said that he had once served under King Rahel. Outrageous claims of fighting dragons, demons, and far worse had brought hundreds of costumers into the blacksmith’s tiny shop. Whether the stories of Haedron’s exploits with the dead king of men were true or false, Draedis grew up on his father’s stories of dragons, stone golems, and the dark magic that had plagued the realm decades before. But many years had passed since Haedron had fallen into the sleep of death and now at the age of thirty five Draedis had taken control of the family business. 

            Deep in the heart of the underground city of Brunith, the trade center and capital of the Dwarven people, sat the Craftsman & Blacksmith Shop of Draedis. Draedis was different than your average Dwarf. He longed for adventured and loved outsiders; causing him to be an outcast of his own people. He spent most of his time in his shop; which because of the Dwarven people’s stigma against him was now rather unsuccessful. The little man was however quite the skilled craftsmen and a far better smith than the majority of his Dwarven counterparts. His blades could pierce the strongest chainmail and his armor could hold off even the most powerful of mages for a time. 

            “I’ll be stuck here forever.” The dwarf muttered to himself on this calm afternoon.

 Draedis was standing behind the counter of his blacksmith shop, to his right the door to Brunith. Across from him lay a crafting table with tools hanging down from hooks on the ceiling. Next to the crafting table sat an anvil and a furnace behind it; left of the furnace a staircase led up to the second floor and then up into the roof. The second floor was used for storage holding molds for weapons, metal ingots, and other random smithing tools. All along the walls of the first floor of the shop there were swords, bows, leather armor, and chainmails on display. Behind Draedis’ left was the door to the back room of the shop that had been converted by Draedis and his father into an apartment. This was to be his home and tomb like his father before him and his father before him. But Draedis had a faint hope, that one day the crazed mutterings of his long dead father would come true. The father who on his death bed told Draedis the last story he would ever tell.

“Draedis…” The old man wheezed.

“What is it father?” A much younger Draedis stood next to a bed in the back of their family store.

“Many years ago, as you know, I was the humble servant of the great king. For a life debt to him I owed. When I was a younger and far more foolish man, I, against better logic, went into the cave of a dragon. I had wandered from Brunith searching for life; made my way north into the pass of Rahnn and stumbled upon this dark cave. I stupidly ventured into the cave; unknowingly that the action aforementioned would change my life forever. Cave dragons are particularly nasty and this one was nothing less than vicious. It was a huge beast sixty feet long and forty feet tall. After I realized my mistake, I tried to flee but the monster had caught wind of me; and taking me as a late lunch decided to hunt me down. I had taken shelter in a little alcove inside the dragons den; I had given up almost all hope of ever seeing the outside world again. Rahel heard my cries for help and rode into the cave. The dragon, occupied by the lunch he was trying to get never saw the man behind him. The king drew a sword that emitted a light so bright it blinded the cave dragon, whose mortal enemy is light; allowing me to escape. For quite some time after we went on wonderful adventures together. My son, those stories I told you in your youth were true; all true. I travelled with Rahel until he grew too old for adventures and settled down for society and leading his kingdom. But now as death comes and greats me as an old friend, the life debt I owed passes on to you. My only son if ever the king or his kin come to you, you must fulfill the debt owed.  You must do this for me son.” Haedron lay still, after he finished the story; not stirring for a while. A few hours later he died; the words of his story still fresh in his dead mouth.

The fifteen years since his father’s death had taken a toll on Draedis’ faith in the dead man’s stories; Draedis was half convinced that his father had been mad. There was no proof of anything he said ever existing; there were no swords with insignias or shields bearing crests. No letters or memorabilia from any of the alleged journeys, in fact nothing at all. The only thing there was were the stories that his father told him over the years, and even those had changed as his father grew older and the years grew crueler. Draedis had come to the conclusion that the only time he would be going off to fight dragons and save the kingdom would be in his dreams.

Resigned to pessimistic outlooks on his future Draedis continued the rest of the day muttering about how dull his life had turned out. After putting the finishing touches on a sword that had long required a good sharpening, Draedis, tired and annoyed, retired to his room in the back of the shop.  The back room of the shop was a small little room that originally had been a storage room. The room was outfitted with a bed, a small dresser opposite the bed, a mirror atop the dresser, and a small end table next to the bed with a candle on it.

“I will probably even die in the back of this shop like my father and his father before him.” The sulking Draedis uttered to himself before leaping onto his bed.

 The old bed had endured much over the years, but today it seemed was not the best of days for young Draedis, and when he thrust himself upon the bed the old legs gave way, causing the bed to come crashing to the ground with a large thump. The Dwarf immediately began to swear profusely; today really had not been his day. But things are never random; some things are meant to be. 

Draedis lay there in his broken bed wallowing in self-pity for quite some time before he fell into an uneasy sleep. When the bells of the morning began ringing throughout the city, Draedis awoke feeling un-refreshed. The little man crawled out of bed and having forgotten of his misfortune the night before stumbled over one of the broken legs of his bed. With a loud thump Draedis came crashing to the floor, it appeared his luck had still not changed. 

“Damn it all!”  The dwarven man shouted. 

Draedis grabbed the piece of bed leg that had caused his misfortune and hurled it at the nearest wall. The sound of wood shattering into thousands of pieces filled the back room of the blacksmith shop. But when the dust of broken wood had lifted there on the floor sat a chunk of the broken leg with a rolled piece of parchment protruding from it. Draedis stood there stunned for a few seconds, confounded by the sheer existence of the parchment. His mind raced for the next minute (which for Draedis felt like an eternity) crazed with thoughts about the parchment. What could it be? Why was it hidden inside the leg of the bed? How long had that bed been there? Could it be his fathers?

“What are you?” The dwarf muttered to himself as he slowly walked over to where the chunk of leg had come to lie. 

As Draedis bent down to pick up the rolled up piece of parchment, his heart began racing. His fingers gently wrapped around the soft piece of parchment and with the rough hands of an obvious craftsman, but the delicate touch of someone skilled with their hands, removed the foot and a half long piece of parchment from its hiding place. The piece of parchment was soft and evidently made of a cloth like material making it not parchment at all. Draedis slowly unrolled the fabric with the back side facing him. The color of the fabric was a faded off-white color and it smelled faintly of old books. Draedis’ hands were shaking as adrenaline raced throughout his body. After trembling for a few seconds, Draedis decided that on the count of three he would turn the fabric over.

“1…2…3…my word!”  The dwarf gasped in shock.

On the other side of the fabric was an intricate map. The border of the map was inlayed with gold and bore the crest of the Elf Kingdom in the top right corner. The gold inlay twisted over and around itself on the edges of the map; playfully wrapping around all of the corners. The golden border had the illusion that it moved; and as Draedis rocked the map back and forth in his hands it caused the map to shimmer and sparkle. The sheer brilliance of the colors reflected the little light in the room and as if by magic the map was completely readable. In the dark back room the map glowed slightly illuminating the room. A magic map, Draedis thought to himself. The map was of the forest of Leatra, the Elf Kingdom, and to the knowledge of Draedis, who spent hours of free time studying maps and reading books, was the most detailed map of the Elf Kingdom ever composed. The map was incredibly detailed; showing the exit of the Pass of Rahnn into the woods of Leatra, the location of the Shrine of Terra, the entrance to the Ice Bridge of Lundrous and much more.

 “Mother Terra what have you blessed me with?” Draedis prayed allowed.

Draedis sat in the back room studying the map all day. Even when a few customers knocked quietly on the front door of the shop, he sat staring at the map, eyes determined to know every colorful detail present on its cloth fabric.  Many hours had passed before Draedis rose from his room. The dwarf wandered out into the shop, where he grabbed an arrow case, and with a quick look to assure him he was alone, stashed the map inside the case. 

The next few days Draedis found business was increasingly good. But truly he had been quite unable to focus on work. He found himself sneaking peeks at the map anytime customers were more than a few minutes apart. Giddy that he had found something that gave credence to his father’s stories. A week had passed before Draedis decided that he would have to venture out into the city and see if he could find someone to authenticate the map. But Draedis seldom ventured out into Brunith because of the dangerous conditions of the city. 

Brunith was one of the oldest cities of the Dwarven Empire. Built into one of the largest mountains in the Nordsten mountain range Brunith was reached only by the tunnel of Taykan that led you deep underground into the Brunith Cavern. The Brunith cavern that housed the Dwarven city was a large carved out dome inside the base of the mountain; it was about two miles wide, about two miles long and about three or four miles deep. The dwarves used an ancient magic to light the city with floating light orbs that simulated sun and moonlight. The majority of the buildings in the city were made of stones with wooden roofs on most buildings. There was a clear downtown district that held an impress market; all along the edges of the market stood shops of various sorts. Draedis’ shop was placed up a staircase in the back section of the downtown market of Brunith which was located in the far western portion of the city. To the North of the downtown district sat the Fortress of Brunith. The Fortress was made of solid granite decked in white limestone that shinned brilliantly in the magically light. It was inside the Fortress of Brunith the Grand Chancellor of Brunith lived. The Grand Chancellor acted as the governor of the city and he served as the representative to the Southern Dwarf Senate that made the decisions for the whole republic. The city center contained a statue of the goddess Terra, who legend, said was a Dwarf. The rest of the city contained taverns, smaller markets and a variety of housing options. Brunith was a city dying of corruption with a faint hope for redemption.

Draedis was about a little bit over three feet tall (Average for a male dwarf). The dwarf had black hair that came down to just above his thick black eyes brows. Draedis’ eyes were dark brown and went well with his hair color. He was a decent looking little fellow and if not for his adventurous, nature many a dwarven woman would have considered herself lucky to have him as a husband. On this day Draedis was wearing a hooded green cloak with an arrow case filled with arrows on his back. He had a leather belt and sheathed short sword of his own crafting hung on his left side just mere inches from the ground. Draedis had come prepared for his venture out into the city; he was wearing a leather chest plate, fine leather bracers, and a pair of fine leather chaps. 

“Never know what you will run into out in the city.” The dwarf said to himself as he put on the armor.

Draedis left his shop and immediately headed down the staircase into the marketplace. The magical orbs in the sky were glowing a faint blue simulating the light of the moon. As Draedis made his way through the quiet marketplace he noticed that there was a dwarf in a cloak following him through the maze of stalls. The marketplace was a courtyard sized space that was filled with wooden stalls bearing colorful awnings and dazzling signs. The sides of the marketplace were lined with shops actually possessing a building; the more successful shops were located closer to the middle of marketplace in prominent viewpoints. Upon reaching the pathway that led into the town center Draedis noticed that the figure behind him had now turned into three. The blacksmith reached for his sword and drawing it turned to face the little group now following him. The sword’s blade sparkled in the light as the blade came into view; made of steel with a small gold ball at the end of the hilt and the initials DB in gold engraved on the cross beam. The hooded group of three scampered back as the sword came into view. But quickly revealing they too had come prepared, the attackers rallied, drawing a short sword and two daggers between the three of them. It was clear to Draedis that he was outmatched and in the second he turned to flee towards the city center he saw two more figures emerge from the pathway behind him.

“Give up.” One of the would-be robbers barked at him.

“Don’t struggle and you’ll be alright.” Another one ordered.

Draedis backed up towards one of the shops along the edge of the marketplace. The way to the stairway back to his shop was blocked by the group of three Dwarves and the pathway to the city center blocked by their apparent two Dwarf back up. The only way out was if Draedis could somehow manage to climb up and over the ten foot wall behind him; he then could flee on the second floor of the walkway back to his shop. The now group of five Dwarves began moving in for the kill. All moved in tandem with one another blades drawn and pointed at Draedis. This surely will be my end thought Draedis as the hooded dwarves closed in on their prey.